Time Enough
by Random Guise
Summary: A short followup to the quirky time-travel love story movie "About Time". We find Tim Lake sitting at home pondering his gift. I don't own these characters, and I don't own these characters.


**A/N: A short sequel to the movie "About Time".**

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Time Enough

Can a man have too much normalness? Maybe it's not possible, but if it is...is it a good thing or a bad thing? I mean, too much alcohol and you pass out and miss important things like stop signs or your mates drawing obscene pictures on your forehead. Too much food and you're constantly trying to find ways to dump off 'gently used' clothes that don't fit anymore.

Then there are times when too much of something turns out to be not too much after all. I love my family, truly and deeply as long as I can remember and didn't think any more was possible until I met Mary. And just when I thought I would burst from so much more love then our daughter Posy came along. Like one of those balloons they make the twisty animals out of at parties, you think you've reached the limit and *whoosh* you find that you can take a lot more air, love, or another case in court.

The reason I wonder is because of my gift. Well, it's not really my gift you see...all the men in my family have it I'm told although I haven't actually talked to anyone other than my dad about it. I didn't believe my father when he told me on my twenty-first birthday, and he didn't believe it when his father told him at the same age when the gift becomes empowered. The power to relive any time in our life over again by going into a dark place, clenching our fists and imagining ourselves back to the place and time in our lives we want to go. No watching the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk, no Battle of Hastings, no attending Woodstock either; nothing but events in my life.

What do I do with my gift? That's the strangest part of all, because I don't do anything with it now. When I first found out, it taught me that some things can and can't be changed. Changing the circumstances won't make a girl love you, or change the fact your father has cancer. And ultimately, it isn't necessary to enjoy life. My father said the secret to his life was to live each day normally, then relive it and enjoy it without the stress of wondering what was going to happen. But I left out the middle man, as it were, and live each day that way _anyway_. You can spend so much effort trying and retrying to do everything perfectly that you end up jaded by the fact that nothing will every go absolutely perfectly because _something_ will always be not quite right.

For instance, I no longer have a perfect record in court. Going back in time doesn't change the facts of the case, but it does allow you to prepare and argue the case differently if you lose the first time around. Now that I don't have a "no losses" history hanging over my head, I find myself actually more invested in the case because I have to do it right the first time. I don't need to travel back to change things.

Well, except for knocking that big glass of grape juice over onto the carpet. I mean, I had to check if the gift still worked and someone really shouldn't have put the glass so close to the edge of the table anyway and Mary would have killed me when she saw the stain.

I resist the temptation to go back in time to when my father was still alive. God I miss him, his always lounging with a book in his hand, and our countless games of table tennis in the upstairs. There are times when I still catch myself considering the idea, only to snap out of the thought when I remember what happened the last time I went back before my children were born. It was innocent enough, trying to help my sister Kit Kat straighten her life out but the result was that my oldest daughter had turned into a boy. Butterfly effect I suppose, but I was able to eventually get it back right again but other little things were changed.

That's the way it is with time travel; you never know just what might change accidentally, and all the more reason why I have (pretty much) sworn it off. Dad said that trying to use our gift for fame or wealth like Uncle Fred just left you bitter and alone. After my father passed I asked my mom about Uncle Fred while I pointed to his portrait on the wall of the study.

"Oh, that's not Freddie, just some painting we picked up at a rummage sale" she said. "Uncle Fred was too miserable to ever sit long enough to have a portrait done." That was Mom, matter-of-fact and to the point. The polar opposite of my sister; she would have gone on and on about some imagined life the (now) unknown subject of the portrait had led. Come to think of it, she already did when I broke the news to her.

So there we were, the Lake family. Tim and Mary, proud parents of Posy, Jeff and Jo. Normal, safe, secure, happy. As happens on many occasions, Mary and I sat on the sofa after the kids had gone to bed. Tired from a particularly busy day as a professional reader, Mary had succumbed to sleep leaning against me while the TV news played. I turned the volume down and looked down at her, then around the room. Life was good. My gaze swept around until it fell upon a family portrait we had taken last year; all dressed in our finest from the waist up. Out of frame, shorts and sandals kept us comfortable under the lights. Posy was now eight, Jeff five and Jo four.

As I looked at the picture, a question came into my head that had never occurred before. As far as I knew, all males in the family were told of their gift on their twenty-first birthday when it 'switched on'. My father told me, his father told him, so I always assumed it was true; but thinking back, I had never heard any other family member even hint about it. Was it every male, or was it a secret society where meetings were held behind closed doors and they just hadn't gotten around to inviting me yet?

What if I was the last one?

More importantly, should I tell Jeff when he turned that magic age? As far as I knew, no members of the family ever became politicians or anything else that would affect a lot of lives so our gift was pretty much our little private tool. If things continued as they did and I didn't become an old recluse or serial killer, then Jeff would probably have a pretty good life as well. Would it complicate his life too much if I told him? What if he found out accidentally? What if he became an Uncle Fred?

I thought back on my father again. When he told me, he tried to give me all the knowledge and advice he could before ultimately saying it was my choice to use it as I wished. He might have debated with himself before making the same decision to tell me; there was a lot I didn't know, couldn't know and would never know. How can you ask a question when you don't even know the question exists?

And as I sat there, I came to my decision. We are all born with 'gifts'. Some are a wiz at math, others can run like the wind, and still others can walk into a party and strike up conversations with beautiful women without sounding like an idiot. But we have the choice to use them or not once we unwrap them. And ultimately, that is one of the things that define us as a person.

And I won't take that choice away from him. But I only have sixteen years to figure out how to do it; time enough I hope.

If it's not enough time, there's this little trick...

The End

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 **A/N: A funny and at times tender movie, and yes there were inconsistencies in the so-called rules of time travel; however, I still enjoyed it from the character viewpoint. I have a soft spot for quirky but kind characters and this fit the bill.**


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